Delayed Reaction
by windscryer
Summary: Sam can't believe that 'TMI' is all Dean has to say on the subject of him and Ruby. It's not. IKWYDLS missing scene. Rated for Dean being... well... *Dean*. And for the ways he's rubbed off on Sam.


Because I just can't believe that was all Dean had to say on the subject of Sam and Ruby and *shudder*.

If I owned them there would be no need for this fic, because the moment it's trying to fix would NEVER HAVE HAPPENED.

Muchas gracias to Isis-SG1 for her help in making this better. AND I LEFT THAT PART IN. SO NO TAKING BACK CHRISTMAS SURPRISES. :D

* * *

Dean had been silent since leaving the motel.

Sam hadn't said much either since he was still thinking about the conversation they'd had there.

Sam hadn't meant to reveal his mistake with Ruby.

And yeah, he knew it was a mistake. Hell, he'd known that about the time he'd woken up the morning after and found her asleep in the bed with him.

When she first kissed him, he remembered the instantaneous revulsion and refusal to even consider the idea.

He'd been desperate for a way to forget—even if only briefly—but he hadn't intended to try that route.

Especially not with her.

He still wasn't entirely convinced she hadn't used some sort of demonic influence because he honestly wasn't sure how he'd gone from basically telling her to fuck off to . . . well . . . _helping her_ fuck off.

But even more surprising than his unintentional reveal, was Dean's reaction.

A simple 'TMI' and a request to move on and skip what Dean would normally term the 'best part' was not at all what Sam had expected when the first words left his mouth.

It was puzzling enough that Sam was _still_ thinking about it, trying to figure out what his brother had been thinking.

Sure, those four months had changed them both, but . . . this still didn't fit with Dean's character, either before _or_ after four months in Hell. There should have been some snarky comment about Sam getting laid, or anger at his choice of playmate.

Sam was so lost in his thoughts that when Dean pulled off the highway they were on to a narrow dirt track it took him by surprise and he blinked and looked around.

"Dean?" he asked after a moment.

Dean ignored him.

Sam looked around once more, confirming that they weren't on the road they were supposed to be on.

"Dean, what-"

A silent and hard braking was Dean's only response.

"Shit!"

Sam instinctively braced himself against the dash, then turned to stare incredulously at his brother.

The gear was shifted, the engine cut, and then a moment of silence followed as Dean stared out the windshield and Sam continued to stare at Dean.

"What the hell-" Sam started again, but was cut off by the abrupt departure of Dean from the car.

"Oookay," Sam said to himself with a frown. "And this behavior is _totally_ normal."

But then it had been a day of odd behavior, so Sam just mentally shrugged and exited the car himself.

Dean was leaning against the hood, arms crossed over his chest, head up, eyes staring at the woods in front of him. Well, staring in the general _direction_ of the woods. Not so much _at_ them.

Sam approached cautiously, hands stuffed in his pockets, feeling like he was entering the proverbial minefield. Unfortunately, if this was a game of Minesweeper, he was playing the expert level. Blindfolded.

He debated with himself for a few moments, but before he got a chance to speak, Dean did. His voice was quiet, low, and very carefully controlled.

Pretty much a blaring alarm warning that Sam was about to get his ass royally chewed out.

"When I said all those times that you needed to get laid, this is _not_ what I meant."

Now he turned his gaze on Sam and it took everything the younger Winchester had to not cringe and shrink back a step.

"Dean, I-" And with that he stepped squarely on the biggest mine in the field.

That was all the spark needed for Dean to explode, shooting up off the Impala's hood and advancing on his brother. "SHE'S A DEMON FOR FUCK'S SAKE, SAM. A _DEMON_."

"I-"

"And in case you _forgot_," Dean continued, bulldozing right over whatever protest Sam hoped to lodge, "we're in a war _against_ the demons. You did get that part, right? Where a _demon_ killed Mom and that same _demon_ killed Jess and that _same_ _demon _killed Dad and _arranged_ to have you killed and tried _damn hard_ to kill me and _then_ a whole horde of _demons_ escaped from Hell and have been wreaking havoc for the last year and a half all over the damn world? You did know about all that right? Or did you miss that memo?"

"Dean," Sam said quietly, but Dean wasn't _quite_ ready to listen just yet.

"Dad told me you might go darkside. Hell, the Yellow-Eyed demon has been planning it since a decade before you were born. Gordon thought you were evil, too. A lot of hunters have thought that. Even _you_ thought that a few times. And I told them all—_every last one of them_—that they were out of their fucking minds and that if anyone could resist that pull it was you. That the deck had been stacked against you, but you were too sharp, too _good_ to lose that hand and fold. But, you know, I'm beginning to question my blind faith in that respect."

Sam looked somewhat like he'd been punched. He definitely felt as though he had.

"I . . ."

"You what?" Dean snarled. "You didn't mean to? Dammit, Sammy, I want to believe that, but every time I think I know where you are in this whole 'good-versus-evil' shit you do something that makes me rethink my conclusion. First it was trusting Ruby, and then it was taking lessons from Ruby, and now it's _fucking_ Ruby? Despite the fact that you keep telling me she's the one being led around by her nose, I'm having a hard time believing it. Granted," he said, eyebrows shooting up as he waved a hand, "she obviously doesn't have you by the _nose_, but still_ . . ._ Sam, she's dragging your soul down that dark road to Hell one step at a time and it doesn't look _to me_ as though you're doing much of anything to stop it."

Sam swallowed a few times, trying desperately to collect his thoughts, scrambled as they were by the unexpected nuclear air strike his brother just landed on them.

"Dean, you don't understand-" he started.

Dean had paced away in frustration, but at that he whirled back, livid fury a terrifying mask on his face.

"YOU'RE DAMN RIGHT I DON'T UNDERSTAND. SO, _PLEASE_, EXPLAIN IT TO ME, SAMMY!"

Sam's mouth worked once, but nothing came out.

"_Explain_ to me how this is all part of some grand plan to trick Ruby, to lull her into a false sense of security so you can snap her little stolen neck. Oh wait, you were too busy leaving _hickies_ there to think about snapping it."

"I didn't-"

"You didn't what?" Dean demanded. He threw his arms out to the sides. "Didn't mean for this to happen?"

An angry finger jabbed at Sam's chest and he visibly flinched away from it. "You're not going to sell me that pile of horse shit. You're smarter than that, Sammy. And even if it _did_ happen by accident, you should have done something about it as soon as you realized what was going on."

"I-" Sam broke off, his gaze dropping to the forest floor. "I don't . . ."

Dean stared at him for a few moments, his anger ebbing slightly—though not completely.

"Sam, I get that you had a hard time of it after I was gone. I get that. Hell, I was in your shoes exactly one year before. You do crazy messed up stupid things when something like that happens. I _know_ that. But, Sammy . . ." His voice softened, shifting to a pleading tone. "I'm back now. You don't have to keep making those stupid mistakes."

"It's not that simple, Dean," Sam said quietly, eyes locked on his shoes.

"Yes, Sam, it is. Like I said, I know what you went through."

"Do you?" Sam asked in a strained voice, looking up, tears welling up even though he desperately wished they wouldn't.

Dean's jaw went rigid. "Yes, Sam, I do."

"You know what it's like to lose a brother," Sam said. "But Dean, you weren't just my brother. You _aren't_ just my brother." His gaze flicked away, landing on a small sapling. "You're . . . Fuck, Dean, you practically raised me. It was like losing Dad all over again, only worse. Because even though you sort of zoned out on me for a while after that you were still there, still running the show, still in charge when I needed you to be. But this time?"

Sam sniffed, wiping at his face, but unable to stop the tears or his voice from cracking.

"You weren't there," he said, making eye contact again. "You were gone and Dad was gone and _everyone_ was gone. It was just me and," he laughed wetly, "for all my claims at eighteen that I was an adult and capable of living my own life and making my own decisions . . . I wasn't. I'm twenty-five-years-old and I found out five months ago that I'm _incapable_ of living on my own, of running my own life."

Dean's expression melted. "Sammy-"

"No, Dean, it's true. I thought I was ready. I thought I could handle it—even though I didn't want to. But I was wrong. You and Dad, you taught me everything I needed to know to stay alive on a hunt, everything I needed to know to survive in life . . . except what to do after you were gone. I'm not used to making decisions, Dean. Not by myself. I'm used to making suggestions and agreeing or disagreeing with the decisions you and Dad made, but never making my own."

"Sam, that's not true. You went to Stanford for two years-"

"And the only reason I survived there was because of Jess," Sam said. "She rescued me from drowning in the normalcy and kept me afloat until I learned how to swim on my own. But I couldn't have stayed at Stanford after her death even if we'd nailed the Yellow-Eyed demon that night."

Even the birds in the trees had taken flight from Dean's earlier explosion, leaving them now in complete silence.

"So I failed you," Dean said finally. "Is that what you're saying?"

"No! Hell no, Dean, not at all! I'm just saying . . . I wasn't ready. It's as much my fault as yours because I didn't take them time to learn how to live on my own. I let my faith in _you_ blind me just a little."

Dean chewed on that for a few minutes and Sam watched him, wary, hopeful, and unsure all at once.

"Okay, well, this still only explains why you were an idiot for four months," Dean finally said. "I've been back going on two months and you're still doing stupid things. I'm sorry, but you are."

Sam smiled wanly. "You said it yourself, Dean. Slippery slope. Takes time to climb back up and it's not easy."

"Well you could start by not trusting Ruby anymore. That'd be a big huge step right there. And you could start by trusting me. There's two steps. Damn, you're halfway up the mountain again."

A brief smile flickered across his face as Sam looked away.

"I want to, Dean. I really do. But . . ."

"But what?"

Sam remained silent.

Dean's eyes narrowed and he took a step closer, leaning in slightly, as though his problem was that Sam wasn't speaking loud enough instead of at all. "But _what_, Sam?"

"But you left," he finally answered, looking back, eyes red but dry, voice just a shade more detached, like he was forcibly repressing his emotions and finally seeing success.

Now it was Dean's turn to looked like he'd been punched.

"You didn't want to," Sam continued. "You fought it, I know. And you came back. But you still left. And it's . . ." A huffed breath was expelled. "It's going to take me a little while to learn to trust you like that again."

Dean swallowed, not liking this side of the tables now that they had been turned on him.

"Okay." He could accept that. He didn't have to like it . . . but he could accept that. He _had_ to accept that, for now.

Then he had to ask, trying not to make his voice bitter and only partially succeeding, "But you can trust Ruby?"

Sam sighed again. "Not really, no."

Dean arched an eyebrow.

"I really don't, Dean, despite what you think. She's not a tame demon, some sort of pet, I know that. Honestly, I think of her more like a snake. She could turn on me at any time, yeah, but if I handle her carefully then the risks are minimized. And if I'm _really_ careful I can milk some venom out of her and turn it around on the other demons. A demonic anti-venom if you will."

Dean snorted. "Not that I don't appreciate the visual of Ruby as a snake, but come on, Sam. You really believe that?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't have much choice, Dean. I'm in with her too deep now. And you've seen it work already. She's helped me defeat demons."

"In a way you have been _explicitly_ warned not to use by an angel of _God_. You say you're trying to get demonic anti-venom but I think she's getting the venom in you anyway and not in a way that's going to build up immunity. You've _got_ to stop this, Sam. Now."

"Just stop working with her," Sam said. "Just like that."

"Yeah!" Dean said, baffled as to why this was apparently such a difficult concept to understand.

Sam had that superior, mocking half-smirk on his face that annoyed the hell out of Dean when it was aimed his direction.

"Then what?" he asked, eyebrows arching. "Just let her run back to Lilith? She knows way too much about us, Dean, and if we turn on her, when she comes back it won't be to talk to us."

"Okay, first of all, as much as I want to, even I don't think Ruby's that dumb," Dean said. "And second of all, you could always send her back to Hell where she belongs. Hell, I'd even make an exception and let you use that little trick she taught you one last time. Poetic justice," Dean added with a smile.

"Which would send her right back to Lilith," Sam said. "And no," he said, when Dean opened his mouth to protest, "it's not a matter of her being dumb so much as it is Lilith apparently runs the show down there. You think she's going to hesitate to use whatever hellish torture she can to get information out of Ruby?"

"Okay fine. Then we gank her with her own damn knife. She can't come after us and she can't be tortured if she's dead."

"Oh right. The one we left behind?"

Dean leveled a glare at his brother.

"I don't hear you suggesting anything."

"Because I have no idea what to do, Dean!" Sam said, throwing his arms wide. "I've got _nothing_. I _don't_ like trusting Ruby, but besides the fact that she's kind of useful, I have no idea how to get rid of her without screwing things up even worse."

"Well, you said that's what you needed me for," Dean said. "To make decisions. Well then, I'm making one now: Next chance we get we kill Ruby, once and for all."

"Oh, yeah, that's a _great_ plan," Sam said, tossing his hands up in the air and turning away to pace a few steps.

"It's a helluva lot better than _your_ plan of 'just keep playing along with the demon until an angel smites your ass down to Hell for insubordination'."

Sam whirled back. "Okay so both plans suck! We need another one."

Dean thought for a few moments.

He started back to the car. "I'm going to need some time to think." His eyebrows shot up in consideration as he added, "About all of this. And meanwhile, we need to get back to your _girlfriend_-" And boy if that word wasn't laced with every last ounce of disdain and venom Dean could stick in it. "-and Anna and figure out how to protect her. The innocent human, not the demonic bitch." Shutting his door with a slam, Dean gave a pointed, _Get the lead out,_ look to Sam through the windshield.

Sam rolled his eyes as he climbed in the car.

Dean started the engine but paused before putting it in gear.

"And I swear, Sam, if there's anything else you haven't told me-"

"No. No, that's . . . that's pretty much it. You got all the important parts anyway."

Dean maintained his stare.

"What?" Sam demanded.

"I don't want just the important parts, Sammy. I want _all of it._"

Sam looked out the windshield, his tone just a little bit of sullen rebellion when he said, "You sure about that? I tried to tell you the first time and-"

Dean held up a hand. "Okay, everything but the details about you and Ruby and the horizontal mambo." He shuddered. "Guh. There isn't a strong enough bleach in this world for that."

Sam half smiled in genuine amusement.

"If it makes you feel better, she's not that good in bed."

Dean shot a glare at Sam. Then said, gruffly, "Even more reason to end her. She's going to scare you away from ever having sex again and that is just not healthy. I won't have her undoing all of my hard work."

Sam laughed outright at that.

"'All of your hard work'?" he repeated.

"Yeah, you know, taking you out to bars to meet chicks, getting you phone numbers of more chicks, finding somewhere else to be so you can be alone with all of these chicks. Just generally. . ." he shrugged, "forcing you to be social again after . . . you know, Jess and all that. Helping you get back up on the horse, so to speak." He grinned lasciviously and waggled his eyebrows. "Or, you know, saving a horse and riding-"

Sam held up a hand to halt his brother. "I got it, Dean, thanks."

Dean half shrugged, but a hint of a smile lingered. "I'm just saying."

Sam shook his head, still chuckling softly. "Well, please . . . _stop."_

"So, anything else?" Dean asked again, serious once more.

Sam shook his head. "No."

Dean arched an eyebrow.

"Really, Dean, no."

"So we good?"

"We'll get there," Sam said.

Dean gave that a moment of thought and then nodded. He'd take it.

"Okay. So I can end this entry on the top ten biggest chick flick moments of my life?"

"Yeah," Sam said, his smile growing.

"Good. Two of them in one damn day," Dean grumbled as he cranked the engine and shifted into reverse.

He continued to mutter and gripe as he backed down the short road back to the highway.

Sam had to work to suppress his smile and said another silent prayer of heartfelt thanks for Dean's return.

* * *

Review, please and thanks!


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